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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496825">RP Starters I Worked too Hard on to Never use Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyWonderful/pseuds/DecafWrites'>DecafWrites (BoyWonderful)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Comics, Young Avengers (Comics), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, One Shot, RP starters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:55:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyWonderful/pseuds/DecafWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of roleplay starters I wrote for whatever reason or another. If I think they’re especially bangin’, I’m gonna drop ‘em here. </p>
<p>Tags and characters will be updated as I add more, and any au’s or triggers will be explained in the notes at the beginning</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Billy Kaplan, for Dorrek VIII</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So! This starter was written in an au in which Teddy had never come to Earth. Everything happened pretty much exactly the same way, but Teddy was never there. Only, they’re soul mates, and Billy’s finally coming home. </p>
<p>T/W for suicide mention (just a rehash of Young Avengers 2013)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was something unsettling in the way the soul separated from the body. The physical, real and unwavering, shifted and slid. Boundaries blurred, and reality turned in on itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless of every training session in which Dr. Stephen Strange tried to walk Billy Kaplan through the steps of astral projection, the gap between physical and astral had always been just a little too far, a little too vulnerable. He would jerk from his near trance, breath catching like fire in his throat, and snap his awareness back to the physical realm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was as embarrassing as it was frustrating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Demiurge, the most powerful magical being in the history of the universe, was still just a 20 something living in his parents' downtown New York apartment. He'd seen the families magic had torn apart. He'd held his biological mom as she wept, overcome with guilt at the consequences of a force that came as naturally as breathing --  a force that sat, coiled, in Billy's stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What would happen if he lost control of it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was that thought that kept Billy awake. He grunted softly in frustration as he flipped his pillow, once again, to the cool side, and stubbornly sunk his head into the soft cushion. He shut his eyes against the memory of his mother, emerging from Dr. Doom's room, clad only in a bathrobe, with big brown eyes that didn't recognize him. He turned to his other side, turning his back on the memory of Captain America, face taught as he </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Billy be kept on lockdown like some type of impending danger, like a force destructive enough to rip the world apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the hard, cool metal against his tongue. He could feel the curve of the trigger against his finger. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, heavy and final, the decision that would fix the reality he had broken, and destroy any chance he could ever break it again. If he had been less selfish, he would have done it. He wouldn't have hesitated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sucked in a breath, flipping onto his back, eyes fixed on the smooth, white ceiling. He knew he needed to be careful with those thoughts — another thing his mother had unwittingly given him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stephen had said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Settle your body. Energize your mind.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt his breath cycle in and out of his chest. It was just one of many different cycles that made the entirety of the universe. If he focused hard enough, he could feel it. He could see where his exhalation settled, where it returned to atmosphere. The world shifted. Colors muted and grew, turning on themselves in inverted saturation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were open, upright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was the natural conformity of his life to the universe, but there was very little difference between his true, and his astral form. His hands, as he waved them in front of his face, were just slightly translucent, skin a deep shade of pale blue. He could move much more easily, here, and his form was more comfortable. It was as if he had been wearing a tight pair of jeans for a long time, and had finally gotten the chance to change into  pajamas. The restriction was gone, and he could finally relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then his stomach cramped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sucked in a breath, settling his hand over the feeling, brows furrowing. Instinct told him to listen, so, he did.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>To the stars. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stars. It was the thing about Latveria that he found himself missing most often. Being a city boy, the stars were never something to be seen, only imagined. Over the wide expanse of green of the rural country, a million tiny lights streaked across the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stars weren't enough. Even as Billy found himself high above the blue marble of earth, blanketed by the vast darkness of space, surrounded by the endless expanse of sky, his stomach pulled. It beckoned him further in, impossibly strong, like a demand he couldn't ignore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He followed the feeling deeper and deeper into the darkness, unable to pull back, unable to </span>
  <em>
    <span>focus </span>
  </em>
  <span>on anything else until the feeling consumed him. It ate his body like fire, only, the warmth was comforting. It cradled his spiritual form, even as it </span>
  <em>
    <span>enveloped</span>
  </em>
  <span> him — an intense longing for something he had never known, yet had felt his entire life. He didn't know why, nor did he know what, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had to go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he came upon a spaceship, he felt parched. It was a thirst that no water could cure. It sat in his bones, as deep as his soul itself. It was as if a part of him was missing, and he was sure the piece could be found just beyond the foreign material of the ship's outer wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side — an alien, green and large, resting on a bed of soft cushions and light fabric. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy couldn't breathe. His skin </span>
  <em>
    <span>ached </span>
  </em>
  <span>to touch him, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>the rough surface of his skin, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>come home </span>
  </em>
  <span>to someone he had never met before. He wanted to know him so badly, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With unsteady steps, he closed the distance between them, settling lightly on the unoccupied space beside him, fitting into the gaps of his body like he had belonged there his entire life. With a gentle, though shaking, hand, Billy caressed the stranger's cheek, thumb slipping over the hard line of his cheekbone, simply pouring over the details of his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to remember them. He needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn </span>
  </em>
  <span>them into his mind.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bakugou Katsuki</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one was written for an au in which Bakugou was never rescued from the LoV, and became a villain. </p>
<p>TW for light psychological wildness</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This. Was annoying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Metal bit harshly into his wrists, encasing his hands, rendering any attempt at a spark or pop </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The sweat build up would be useful for later, though, and there absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If he stayed quiet, if he stayed </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharp</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was going to make it through this. It was only a matter of playing the game until there was an opportunity to win. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only, Bakugou was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>known </span>
  </em>
  <span>for being able to keep his mouth shut. All it took was a push in the wrong direction for him to open it up, and tell his captors precisely what he thought of them, and, based on the way Patchwork’s head tilted and Crusty smiled, it had been a mistake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation shifted from how to liberate him, to what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. Some voted to kill him, but he had been kept alive for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ominous Mist reminded them. Someone wanted him for something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought sent a shiver to his spine, a cold, prickling feeling that remained, even as they moved him through a nausea-inducing mist to a different facility. There, he was kept in the cold and dark until someone figured out what to do with him. Distantly, he wished his hearing was better. He could make out sounds in the room over, but he couldn’t place them. Wherever he was, he was left alone. The cold bit into his skin, and, though his hands were still bound together, he understood this was an extra layer of protection. It was hard to work up a sweat here. So, he sucked in a breath, and hunkered in, forcing back any strings of panic. If he was going to get out of here, he needed to think clearly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The resolve was shifted by the sound of an explosion, and a heavy rumble that could be nothing other than the sound of a building coming down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he heard it, muffled, yet clear and unmistakable as sunlight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bakugou-shounen. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart lept. He threw every ounce of his weight against the firm restraints, </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get closer to the sound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All Might,” he said, voice muffled by some type of muzzle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>All Might!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he screamed, the impossible realization of his fate finally settling between his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>All Might!!</em>
  </b>
  <span>” he sobbed, fear and uncertainty getting the better of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thrashed so violently against his restraints that the entire apparatus toppled over with the brunt of the fall on his shoulder. He couldn’t feel it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All Might...” he begged, chest roiling with sobs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice was gone. There were no more sounds save the choked sobs that echoed around the room. How could he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>break? He might be arrogant and loud and prideful, but he was just a kid. He was just a kid with his hero on the other side of the wall, completely unaware how close he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just a kid, and he was utterly, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how many days had passed. Occasionally, someone would come in and spoon feed him from a tray. For a while, he refused, even going so far as to bite the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of some rando’s hand. By the 8th time, he felt so weak and frail, he didn’t put up a fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was their first victory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bakugou was stubborn, and endlessly prideful. Breaking and reshaping him was no easy task — he made sure of it — but every rock must bend to the will of time and the forces of nature. In Bakugou’s case, the time was the most effective sculptor. The longer he sat there among the black hearted criminals of the city, the more he came to realize that no hero would come to his aid. Nobody came to save him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody was the key to many, </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span>, more victories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bakugou, while still an explosion of blonde hair and firey personality, was unrecognizable from the kid he had been before. The reason nobody came for him, he discovered late one night, sat in the nature of his personality. There were other hero-hopefuls — better ones — with stars in their eyes and warmth in their hearts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Those </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the ones that mattered. The ones who looked good for the cameras. Bakugou? He was wild, raw, unfinished at the edges. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t worth the effort of rescuing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When someone’s heart breaks, it often grows back twisted and gnarled. Bakugou was no exception. His dreams of heroism shifted over themselves, breaking and reforming into something much darker. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn't good enough to be rescued, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be others out there just like him. If he could only cause enough chaos, make the heroes </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose </span>
  </em>
  <span>who to save, he could expose the entire system. He could prove that heroes were only interested in saving a certain type of people, expose their hypocrisy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Explosion villain, Ground Zero, made no effort to hide his identity. He was the student UA had lost. He was the hero-hopeful that had been taken right under the nose of Japan’s top pro-heroes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was Bakugou Katsuki, and he was in position to bring down a large apartment building in the center of town. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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